Cleveland Stories

There are a few things that have been on my mind almost constantly as of late:
-- my move to Cleveland
-- Donald Miller's book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years
-- Commonway church's sermon series on story
And I'm beginning to come to a point where I can see all three of these things overlapping, as so many things in life are want to do, right?

So here's what I'm starting to think:
-- If I am the protagonist in my own story (as The Holiday points out)
-- And the elements that make a good story make a good life
-- And that one of the elements of a good story is character: character development, strong character and a character who wants something, worthy of wanting and obtaining through conflict
-- And if one of the reasons I'm moving to Cleveland is because my protagonist (me) has not been going down a path leading to the character she (I) wants to be and it would be foolish to think the other elements, like setting, could stay the same but the character would develop differently. I mean, that's counter to the laws of physics and nature, right?
-- Then perhaps now is one of those points of a story where something changes in the story; perhaps now is the time to tell a different story or take my current story to a different depth or change my perspective

So how do I do this? Or what will this look like?
That's sort of what's been consuming my thoughts these days and here are a couple of really practical small steps:
-- attend Donald Miller's seminar in Portland about living a story worth telling
-- take a few classes to work towards a M.A. in English (Creative Writing) at Cleveland State University, taking about one class a semester starting after the New Year

Of course, the seminar is really expensive and the classes are not so cheap either, I guess ... school never is. Sooo, you may have to sit through a few trial blog posts, but I'm going to enter a competition to just win a trip to the seminar. Seems cheap enough to me, right?

On another note, or two:
I had a delightful day sitting with one of my coworkers and talking about music
And my next musical recommendation is: LCD Soundsystem. They're pretty silly, but brought me a lot of joy on my bike ride today.
Also: I just saw a Mercedes-Benz commercial that sounded like Arcade Fire takes on Beethoven Symphony No. 9

The thing about Ugly Betty ...

... and Pride & Prejudice

... and probably many, if not most, other girlie stories. I think it's less about the man being initially not-attracted and then an attachment forming (i.e. Daniel & Betty, Lizzie & Darcy) and less about changing minds, and more about actually changing. Daniel was promiscuous and shallow. Betty was uptight and unfashionable. But through Betty's continual good influence, Daniel deepens and softens, but strengthens. And comes find himself genuinely caring for someone (Betty, of course!). And Betty changes, too. Becoming bolder and more aware, but still true to herself. And Darcy was prideful and filled with disdain, but because of Lizzie changed. And Lizzie was prejudice and quick to judge, but later acknowledges her judgments to have been wrong. (Interestingly enough, the things she was most wrong about were related to her. How often does that happen to us? We can see other people's situations so much more clearly than our own. And it probably ought to be the other way around.)

We want to be a force for good, I think. So we're drawn to stories where the characters are flawed, but in the same way/degree we're flawed (so we can identify with them), but who manage to positively affect someone else's life.

It was important that Daniel end up the way he did. It was a sort of redemption. And we need stories of redemption. We need to know both 1. we can change and 2. we can affect change. Especially by wholly ourselves -- like Betty.

It is significant that neither case set out to change the other, but it was a natural process -- there was something intrinsically attractive about the nature of the other person that drew the other person into their life and their way ... each slowly transforming the other.

Given the option between love at first sight and this slow transformation, I think I'd choose the latter. There is something very romantic about love at first sight, but something more enduring about the metamorphosis -- more organic, more secure, more lasting and deeper ... but I think this is only to me, or at least, not for everyone.

As a side note, I was at work today and overheard the mother of a girl I've know for years saying her daughter had receive a fullbright, etc. etc. "my daughter's so awesome" sort of things, but with such an air of nonchalance that it was even more annoying like "of course my daughter received a fullbright ... she's brilliant and my daughter! She got that brilliance from somewhere, you know?" Anyway, I found myself judgmental and annoyed (in case you didn't pick up on that) and then I wanted to go get a fullbright. I mean, I've wanted to get a fullbright for a long time anyway, and have looked into the process several times, but have found other things to do, other ways to live. And that ought to be fine. I mean, I have a job in an orchestra! And am a founding member of an exciting new musical venture! Beat that. But still, I feel the need to prove to that mother and that daughter that I'm just as smart as she is. That I can be smart, too. But I know I'm smart. (Not to brag.) And I've been the places she's been before. (Again, not to brag.) And my story is just a different story and my journey has a different path. Not better or worse. Just. Different. But still ... Grr ...

Questions and Conversations

I just finished reading Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. It's been a much longer process than I would've liked - because I allowed myself to read only one chapter per day. But I'm so glad I took the time. I didn't want to miss anything and even though I'm sure there are things I've already forgotten, I'm equally sure there are lessons that have sunk deep into me - through my skin and into my marrow - waiting and working to change me. But to say a book changed me (even one of Donald Miller's books) is false and unfair. It is unfair pressure on the book and the author; it is unfair simplicity ascribed to my divinely complex personhood. A book cannot change me. Only I can change me. And yet, even as I type that, I know it is untrue. I want it to be true, but it's not. I can feel God tapping me on the shoulder, forcing me to turn around and sigh. Because not even I can do that. Only God can change me. He is the only one who knows my true capacity. My desires, my potential and how to realize them. He is the only one who can sort through my complexities and make sense of it all. But a book can make me think, and ask questions and start conversations. So may I begin these conversations with God about "what happens now?" and "what if?"

The Gamut of Emotions

Isn't amazing how many different emotions and emotional states a person can go through in a very short amount of time? I went from happy to angry to relaxed to anxious to even more relaxed to happy to ready to sad. All today! Those last few were in the course of thirty minutes! No joke!

So first thing's first. I have another confession to make. I went to the store yesterday to get some soy milk and I was so consumed with getting delicious tasting soy milk that I got chocolate Silk light, not realizing that it was chocolate and therefore not part of my regimen. Woops! So now I have a half gallon of chocolate soy milk and I don't know what to do with it. Drink it anyway? Remembering my sinful nature *wink*? Only drink it on Sundays? That seems a waste of a perfectly good Sunday of break! But then again, is that the consequence of sin? No, because we've been redeemed! Ach! What to do? And it's only soy milk!

So I was really feeling good about writing and then I checked my email and got the response from my Louisville audition which was ... terrible. Nothing short of. And I wasn't just crazy, it was really bad. To the point that the email said the committee determined I was not "'qualified'". I kid you not. The "qualified" was in quotation marks. Oh dear. So many things. I'm not really that upset, except that I know it was not an accurate depiction of my playing. I know I actually AM qualified for a sub list, but ... man. I just didn't do it that day. Watching the olympics, I guess I realize that it happens to everyone. Thanks, sports, for making me feel somehow a little less bad. But I still want to cry a little bit just sitting in my parents living room.

But to end on a positive note ... what I WAS excited about. You know, from my first Lent post, that one of the things I want to be praying about is what to do in the fall, where to be, etc. And I keep getting the sense that Chicago is not where I need to be in the fall. As much as I love the city and want to be there so badly, now is not yet the time. I am getting the feeling that a time will come for me to live in Chicago. Maybe even next year, but for now, not. I'm still going to hope for good news from Civic, and if that works out, then Chicago here I come! But. If not, that's okay.

Now, I am thinking more and more seriously about Cleveland. I've said over and over that I do not want to move to Cleveland, but it does make the most sense. If moving to Cleveland gets me 1. out of the house 2. closer to the job 3. still making money, maybe even more since I can work during the week of the Erie gigs instead of taking the week off. I do have community there. I know they'd like for me to move there. It seems to make sense. I just don't care of the city. But for a little while, it could work. We'll just have to see what comes of auditions, etc.

But I feel a little bit of peace about it.

Also, I think I need to get a pet. Not a fish. Fish don't count. Wherever I move, I'd like to live by myself, but that means I'm going to need another warm body in the apartment. I'd really like to have a dog, but those are 1. more work and 2. more money. So I may be a cat person for a little while. Two things I don't particularly care for 1. cats and 2. Cleveland. So maybe I'll become a different person for a little while. That's okay.